Poetry from Rob Plath

coat of ghosts

i move about
a skeleton
in a coat of ghosts
beneath an old blue place
people stop to say hello
even offer hugs
i smile & sometimes even
a laugh comes out
they don’t know
i’m 3 parts ghost
it’s all a show
b/c everyone who really
made me smile
is gone
they’re ghosts i wear
around me
like a cloak
& when i’m in my room alone
all i do is i cry
listening to songs
that make me remember
all i’ve lost
a skeleton w/ tear ducts
from when i was alive
& today they pass me & smile
they don’t know
my grin is a frown in disguise
even when we shake hands
they don’t notice my grip
is all bone
cuffs of ghosts at my wrists
i’m just a skeleton
in a coat of ghosts
moving about
beneath an old blue place

————————————————

suspended in the night

i woke in the wee
hours of the night
my arm numb
from sleeping on it
& i thought how
we bring things
into existence
w/ our reins of vessels
& circling blood
& slim branches
of nerves, etc…
& while my arm
slowly came
back to life
i lay there in silence
straddling both worlds
the unscrambled one
& one of total nothingness
the latter, of course
my better acquaintance

———————————————-

a visitation

i met my mother the day
after her father suddenly
died in the street
8 years before i was born
she was in the laundrymat
across the street
from our old apartment
in brooklyn
asking herself out loud
how dare the dryers spin?
the machines turn?
don’t they know that
my father’s gone?
& i was there next to her
folding my clothes
on a long white table
twice her age
i gave her my condolences
i told her my mother died
on a sunny day in june
while the baseball game played
loud on the hospital tv
while i was there in the room
& i asked the sun
to stop what it was doing
just for a moment
but it kept on shining
she stared at me as if she
knew something
said she was sorry & thank you
& then looked away
watching the towels lift & drop
in the little round window
& i picked up my basket
& walked out into the blaze
of my dream

Poetry from Alan Catlin

Affective Seasonal Disorder Three Times

1-

Deer at first light

wreathed in mist

transforming to real

objects

escaping dream

2-

Sunlight spreads

light on still pond

surface

3-

The pattern a setting

sun makes on clouds

before they disappear


Affective Seasonal Disorders Five Times

1-

Ground fog makes

headstones out of

black rocks;

silent tides recede

2-

Thick night fog

swallows street lights;

the moon

3-

Blue Heron in sunset

afterglow at full moon

rising

first flowers on trees

4-

Early first ice withers

last cling of leaves-

the grass tingles

5-

War  memorial statue

in Central Park-

icicles on sculpted

guns

bayonets

Affective Seasonal Disorders Six Times

1-

Dawn without light.

intense fog, then

a light rain.

Slowly the sun

clarifies.

2-

Gray haze over

bay. Fragments

of light breaking

through-

almost dawn

3-

Bike trail in Winter.

Frozen ruts where

the tires go.

4-

Free of ice pond.

Still water reflects

mid-day sun.

5-

Clear night-a full

moon creates shadows

6-

After noon white out,

wind-blown drifts,

sideways snow,

white on white

Summer Dreams Four Times

1-

Hottest night of Summer.

A fan in every window.

Who let the skunks out?

2-

Pieces of blue sky

between low black clouds.

Sunlight trying to break

through

3-

Fractured light filtered

through stained glass

window

Broken prisms

on hard wood floor

4-

Sunset over the ocean-

a study in scarlet

Lunar Caustics Three Times

1-

Full moon eclipse.

Prophets say:

“The end is near!”

For now, a thing

of beauty.

2-

A circle of fire

surrounds the moon-

a dream with red

objects in it.

3-

Falling stars leave

scars of light

across the night sky

Mostly Crows Three Times

1-

Crows in Winter sky:

black wings furled

against gray clouds-

ice chips for eyes.

2-

Birds nesting in

eaves-wasps

live there too.

3-

“Do crows dream?”

Zen poet responds,

“who cares?”

Poetry from Lidia Popa

Middle aged light skinned woman with red curly hair and reading glasses with a long shell necklace and a black top.

Green butterflies are born as a mystery

(At Eminescu’s Linden Tree)

Green butterflies in faces of bursting disappointments,

Flies among the white swans through the groves

The late silk of the grass is torn to shreds

Pollen that it spreads with honor over the pearl.

In the synapses they wave their lascivious gaze

Like crows peck at the granary

Eternal offering by deposition at the altars

Forgetting the dew that love knew.

A singing artisan bird

From the secular Linden, amazed, admires them

The sleeping grove naturally hides the path,

Under its white mantle the Earth breathes.

They are not green butterflies but swift snowdrops

Under the rays of the sun the good ones emerge.

BIOGRAPHY

Lidia Popa was born in Romania in the locality of Piatra Șoimului, in the county of Neamț, on 16th April, 1964. She finished her studies in Piatra Neamț, Romania with a high school diploma and other administrative courses, where she worked until she decided to emigrate to Italy.

She has been living for 23 years and worked in Rome as part of the wave of intellectual emigrants since the fall of the Berlin Wall.

She wrote her first poem at her age of seven. She is a poet, essayist, storyteller, recognized in Italy and in other countries for her literary activities. She collaborates with cultural associations, literary cenacles, literary magazines and paper and online publications of Romanian, Italian and international literature. She writes in Romanian, Italian and also in other languages as an exercise in knowledge.

BOOKS

She has published her poems in six books:

in Italy:

1. ” Point different ( to be ) ” – ed. Italian and

2.” In the den of my thoughts ( Dacia ) ” – ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian AlettiEditore 2016,

3.“ Sky amphora ” – ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian EdizioniDivinafollia 2017,

in Romania:

4. ” The soul of words” ed. bilingual Romanian/ Albanian Amanda Edit Verlag 2021,

5.” Syntagms with longing for clover ” ed. Romanian, EdituraMinela 2021.

6.” The Voice interior ” LidiaPopa and BakiYmeri ed. bilingual Romanian/Italian, Amanda Edit Verlag 2022.

Her poems featured in more than 50 literary anthologies and literary magazines on line from 2014 to 2023 in Italy, Romania, Spain, Canada, Serbia, Bangladesh, United Kingdom, Liban,USA,etc.

Her poems are translated into Italian, French, English, Spanish, Arabic, German, Bangladesh, Portuguese, Serbian, Urdu, Dari, Tamil, etc.

Her writings are published regularly with some magazines in Romania, Italy and abroad.

She is a promoter of Romanian, Italian and international literature, and is part of the juries of the competitions.

She translates from classical or contemporary authors who strike for the refinement and quality of their verses in the languages: Italian, Romanian, English, Spanish, French, German, stating that “it is just a writing exercise to learn and evolve as a person with love for humanity, for art, poetry and literature “.

SHE IS

*Member of the Italian Federation of Writers (FUIS)

*Honorary member of the International Literary Society Casa PoeticaMagia y Plumas Republic of Colombia,

*Member of Hispanomundial Union of Writers (Union Hispanomundial de Escritores) (UHE) and Thousands Minds For Mexico (MMMEX)

*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021

*She had come power of attorney Vice-president UHE Romania, Mars18, 2021- August 21, 2021

*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021

*Counselor from Italy for Suryodaya Literary Foundation Odisha India,

*Director from Italy for Alìanza Cultural Universal (ACU) Argentina

*Member Motivational Strips Oman,a member of numerous other literary groups at the level internationally,

*Director of Poetry and Literature World Vision Board of Directors (PLWV) Bangladesh

*Membership of ANGEENA INTERNATIONAL NON PROFIT ORGANISATION of Canada

International Peace Ambassador of The Daily Global Nation International Independent Newspaper from Dhaka Bangladesh – 2023

*Founder literary group Lido dell’anima with LIDO DELL’ANIMA AWARDS

*Founder LIDO DELL’ANIMA Italian magazine

*Founder SILVAE VERBORUM INTERNATIONAL multilingual magazine

*Founder literary currently #homelesspoetry

etc.

Poetry from Pat Doyne

2024:  HIPPOS & HURRICANES

You know that things are dicey when the year’s

bright spot’s a pygmy hippo named Moo Deng

“bouncing pork”—the star of Thailand’s zoo,

who teethes on knees of those who try to feed her.

Incumbents lost elections round the world:

South Africa, India, U.K., and Japan.

We gained Trump’s trademark comeback– touting plans

for buying Greenland, making Canada

a State. Sounds crazy, but deporting hordes

of immigrants from factories and farms

is not a sane move, either. Nor are tariffs. 

We lost outstanding people: Jimmy Carter,

100–year-old humanitarian;

the Grateful Dead’s Phil Lesh; stars Maggie Smith,

Kris Kristofferson, and James Earl Jones;

Nikki Giovanni, black-arts poet;

TV’s fitness guru Richard Simmons.

Putin’s foe, Alexei Navalny, died

in an Arctic prison cell, while war goes on

against Ukraine, the country Putin covets.

But 2024 was rife with war—

Civil War in Sudan; in the Middle East,

Hamas attacked and Netanyahu bombed

hospitals and workers bringing food 

to starving Gaza. This war, no one wins.

Autocracies in key countries grow strong—

China, Russia, North Korea, Iran.

They sell each other weapons. Partners, now.

Our planet’s climate keeps on heating up.

The largest, longest river in the world,

the Amazon, is starting to go dry.

The hottest year on record’s ’24.

To cap it, add a hurricane or ten. 

Helene’s the Atlantic Ocean’s special gift.

Flooded Spain and US southeast coast.

Perhaps life’s better on another planet?

NASA’s Perseverance targeted Mars

in search of living microbes under ice.

And on the moon, Japan landed a SLIM *

softly, nose-down;  solar-powered success.

Research these days is robot-run, just like

in science fiction. Fiction, now, is fact.

Artificial Intelligence, called AI,

leads medical breakthroughs. That’s a happy plus.

But guardrails aren’t in place, and people fear

AI, unchecked, could trash our daily lives. 

So here we are. Now 2024

is in our rear-view mirror.  What a year!

What’s next? More of the same? Hippos and wars?

Or will Trump stir up chaos, just for fun?


* Smart Lander for Investigating Moon

Poetry from Ahmed Miqdad

Middle Eastern man with a knit hat, short beard and mustache, blue rain jacket, standing by a sandy beach.

“Nothing has remained”

Everything has gone

The homes, the souls and feelings.

Our joyful summer became a frightening winter

With its long-darked and terrifying nights.

The ghost of death eradicated our hearts

And stole our souls.

Our beautiful spring became a lifeless autumn

Our children fall Like the leaves of the green trees,

So quietly with the breeze of death.

Their souls fly

As the hovering and glamorous butterflies

Lost in the vast universe

And increase the number 

Of the shining stars.

Our feelings turned into a dry valley

And a burden desert

They’re frozen as an ice bar.

We don’t feel the loss 

As it’s numerous 

And no feelings to joy 

We’re still alive 

But nothing has remained.

Poetry from Wazed Abdullah

Young South Asian boy with short black hair and a light blue collared shirt.
Wazed Abdullah

Life’s Journey

Life is a journey, a winding road,

With lightened loads and heavy loads.

It brings us joy, it brings us pain,

Like sunshine bright, then gentle rain.

Each day’s a gift, a chance to grow,

Through highs and lows, we come to know.

With love and hope, we make our way,

And cherish life, come what may.

Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade 10 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.